


Half Agony, Half Hope

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marauders' Era, POV Sirius Black, Pining Sirius Black, Slytherin Remus Lupin, Very slight jily, romance novels, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: A tale wherein Sirius Black loses 750 House Points for Gryffindor.  But it’s totally worth it.





	1. Chapter 1

In the closed Great Hall, dusty and altogether too warm, Sirius looked down at his hoop and concentrated on _being inside the hoop_.  There was definitely a tingle this time.  He was certain he felt something in his right toe, inside the argyle socks he’d stolen from James, and the dress shoes that were less patent and more suede these days.  He could see, to his immense satisfaction, that James had not managed to apparate either.

Most of the problem with adhering to Twycross’ advice - destination, determination and deliberation - was that Remus John Lupin was standing two bodies to his left.  They had eschewed robes for the training (they were responsible for 15% of all splinched limbs amongst the unlicensed) and Lupin had eschewed school dress code to leave his green and silver tie slightly loosened.  He was tall and fair-haired and the subject of Sirius’ unrequited adoration (Prongs: _obsession_ ) for quite a long time.

James’ problem was along the same lines (Sirius: _obsession_ ).  Although his was two rows ahead in regulation grey skirt and white knee-highs.  He had mentioned about thirty minutes earlier that Evans’ bra-strap was visible through her dress shirt.

Sirius had offered him a half-hearted, _That’s great, Prongs_ .  And then went back to trying to apparate.  And really just watching Lupin. He was a swot - a _Prefect_ , in fact - and _proper_ in ways that the Blacks would have died for Sirius to be.  And, Merlin, he was a Slytherin. But despite all this, everyone liked him.  Everyone. Even Filch’s cat.

It was just that Sirius liked him _more_.  

Lupin looked down the aisle then, just as Sirius was looking at him, and frowned.  

Blushing, heart pounding, Sirius turned quickly away.  With a burst of embarrassed concentration, he managed to apparate himself into the hoop. 

Well, part of himself anyway.

*

Somehow, by dark magic, James had managed to get Evans to date him over the Summer.  Dark magic and hours upon hours of Sirius fighting Muggles at the Cokeworth public pool for a seat.  He got very tanned, managed to pick up an addiction to lurid romance novels, and talked his way into a job at a record store.

He had a lot more time on his hands with Prongs squiring Evans around.  

He had a bit of trouble with the shop’s telephone.  But he bought a second hand Muggle phonograph. And learned how to make change from Muggle money.  He spent most of his earnings on records: the Damned, the Buzzcocks, the Clash. And bought a ratty Triumph Tiger at a boot sale that he’d been tinkering with, having obtained a manual and meeting a _mechineer_ at the record shop.  It actually worked.

Sirius was waiting on Platform 9 ¾ with his neat trunk (it was all a ruse) and leather jacket (though it was too warm).  He was getting irritated with Prongs, who had gone and become Head Boy with Evans. And currently off herding small children into an approximation of an orderly line.  

When Lupin appeared - Sirius’ pining had in no way subsided over the Summer - Sirius got hot and then cold.  And very, very sweaty. Lupin, who was a Muggle, had neat, tidy parents who hugged him and wiped dirt off his cheek before seeing him off.  He had clipped his hair into a neat, tidy Steve McQueen sort of cut. Nothing like Sirius’ untidy hair.

No.  Lupin had also grown about four inches and filled out.  A _lot_.

Because his legs wouldn’t work properly (nor could his lungs), Sirius waited on the Platform until the conductor yelled at him to get on or go home.  Prongs and Evans had gone to the Prefect carriage, leaving Sirius to fend for himself. As he was tasked with securing a compartment, and had a romance novel burning a hole in his jacket pocket, he went down the train until he had neared the end.  The last carriage was the one where bodies had tapered down to the perennially uncool. And where the Marauders would hatch their fiendish plots. They had carved their initials in the wood with the addition of a rather tricky permanence spell that was immune to all _finites_.  

When he opened the door to the compartment - the door rolling furiously along it’s track and shaking the partition with familiar enthusiasm - he was startled to find that there was already someone there.  The sound that left his mouth was the most undignified sort of thing imaginable. A breathy, croaking _squawk_ that was both completely horrible and unerringly audible. 

Lupin, who was witness to this, turned from the window he’d been facing and looked at Sirius.  The top glass was down and he was in the process of exhaling a sweet smelling cigarette. Which summarily danced out of his fingers and into a garden outside of Watford.  Looking at him with his queer greenish-gold eyes, Lupin said, “That was quite an entrance, Black.”

To which Sirius managed a strangled - and in no wise suave - response of: “But you’re a _Prefect_.”  He felt… giddy.  But sounded mortally offended.

Lupin shrugged.  “Well, shut the door, then.  I’ve only got one left.”

Sirius dragged his case into the compartment and closed the door with a gentle click.  Behind him the whir of Lupin’s lighter and then the smell of burning paper and tobacco.  He took a deep, calming breath. Lupin was not, in fact, in the Marauder’s compartment. He was not smoking a cigarette, and he was almost certainly _not_ playing out one of Sirius’ fantasies.  When he turned around, Lupin was, in fact, in the compartment.  He was definitely smoking a cigarette. And he was far too clothed to be recreating Sirius’ fantasy.  With a nervous eye on the taller boy, he dragged his case to the bench across from Lupin’s and the realized he would not be able to lift it without James’ help.  It wasn’t that he was weak. He was just… _lithe_.  Yeah, lithe.  

Oh, and the Triumph was in there.  

He sat down on the leather bench, attempting to make it look as though he was not putting his trunk in the overhead on purpose.  He had not taken his eyes off of Lupin. Who had not taken his eyes off _him_.  There was cold sweat running down his back.  He wished that he’d thought to do more than a quick wash up

“Do you need help with that?”  Lupin asked, looking down at Sirius’ trunk.  He still had the cigarette in his mouth. Lupin’s mouth.  And where his mind went, Sirius’ eyes followed.

“No,” he managed, forcibly turning his thoughts to England, “I always keep my trunk out.”  He quickly pulled up his legs - dark, tight jeans rolled to his calf _just so_ followed by the Doc Martens with their worn tread - and propped them up on the top of the trunk.  He did not miss the way Lupin’s eyes travelled down his body. He wasn’t as tall as Lupin, but he was mostly leg.  And Sirius had nice legs.

“Here,” Lupin said, taking a step towards Sirius and handing him the cigarette, “Hold this.”  As it was customary to take what one was offered, he had it in hand before he realized that Lupin had moved his legs off the trunk.  And while Sirius gathered his scattered wits about him, rising to standing and taking a drag from the cigarette he was holding, Lupin swung the trunk up into the overhead.  As if it was nothing. And not holding a 1964 Triumph, fifty-three records, a phonograph, every item of clothing Sirius had ever owned, and a cauldron of liquid luck that the Marauders were illegally brewing.  Not to be confused with the polyjuice they had been brewing since late 1975. It was sort of like sourdough, getting better as it aged.

Sirius was at Lupin’s shoulder, could smell the soapy clean scent of him, when Lupin realized that Sirius had his cigarette in his mouth.  He plucked it from Sirius’ mouth and before he could pull the smoke into his rather startled lungs, Lupin kissed him. Lupin had a clever, wicked mouth.  He prised Sirius open with his tongue, swallowed the smoke, and lightly bit his lower lip before Sirius’ brain even caught up. “You have a very sweet mouth, Black,” he said while Sirius realized he had taken fistfuls of Lupin’s shirt in his clammy hands.  He immediately released them. “Cheers.”

And then without a by-your-leave, he popped the cigarette back in Sirius’ mouth, opened the door, and to Prongs’ startled, “Lupin?”  Said, “Caught this one smoking.”

James - and Lily - found Sirius like that.  Flushed, sweaty, and with a cigarette in his mouth.

Sirius tossed it out the window while Lily went through her rule book to see if she _had_ to take points from Gryffindor (she did).  Sirius ran through the events of the past twenty minutes.  Lupin had _kissed_ him.

Remus John Lupin may be a swot - a _Prefect_ , well, ex-Prefect - and _proper_ in ways that the Blacks would have died for Sirius to be.  But he was also devious as fuck.

He thought he liked that.  A lot.

“Well, that’s a record,” James said, sinking into the bench next to Evans.  “I don’t know why _both_ of us had to take points off.”  He turned his eye towards a very _not_ contrite Sirius.  “You don’t even feel a little bad, do you?”

“Nope.”  He sank onto the bench near the window and fumbled inside the jacket for his book.  “Have you seen my book?”

*

Lest one believe that Sirius Black was _not_ confident or gorgeous or punk rock, one only had to ask those who knew him.

James Potter, 18, Godric’s Hollow: “We were on a trip to Merlin’s Wood, and Pads was telling a Fourth Year’s fortune.  Holding her hand, tracing her palm, looking deeply into her eyes. And I asked after, _What was_ that?  Without blinking he said, _Just something I do_.  One would never know that he turns his boxers out to wear them again.

_Sirius: I do not._

Evelyn Warrington, 15, Yorkshire: “He just… _really_ listens, right?  You look at him and you know he’s _looking_ at you.”

_Sirius: I have no idea who Evelyn Warrington is._

Horace Slughorn, age unavailable, Hogwarts: “Black is a very intelligent pupil who comes from exceptional wizarding stock.  I taught his grandfather, Cygnus, who - as we all know - was the Kingmaker behind Ignatius Tuft’s spectacular run as Minister.  I don’t approve of breeding dementors, of course. Oh, Sirius? Yes, he’s got a lot of potential. Although I suspect that either Black or Potter have been skimming off the batch of Polyjuice I keep in my office for the 7th years.”

_Sirius: That was James.  And it’s not as good as ours._

Remus Lupin, 18, Bleven: “I have no idea who Sirius Black is.”

_Sirius: ….._

*

“Black,” Sirius, who was surrounded by a group of fawning Fifth Year Ravenclaws - who fawned more for his perfect Arithmancy scores than his natural charm - looked up.  It was Damien Wood. The Hufflepuff Chaser who had caught him in the Quidditch showers and showed him, rather thoroughly, how one could use a mouth. It had been the best part of his six months of hauling gear for James.  Who had been angling for the Captaincy and didn’t mind who he took down with him 

“Wood.”  

“A moment,” he motioned towards the alcove outside Transfig and Sirius followed.  He was fairly certain no assignations were in the offering - Wood had a girlfriend - but one never knew.  “I just wanted to let you know,” he went into sotto voce timber and Sirius had to strain to hear. “That someone’s been --”

“What?”  

Wood looked at him, startled, touching the place where he once had a mouth. A classic _osevenescent_.  Which was a rather tricky jinx to master.  Very tricky. It had Slytherin fingerprints all over it.  But when Sirius looked up, hoping (obviously) to see Lupin, the blond was nowhere to be found.  Just that knob Snape, who looked as constipated as always.

Moments before Transfig started - and Mcgonagall was punctual to a fault in Sirius’ opinion - Lupin and the other Slytherins came in.  

Lupin walked directly up to Sirius, all leonine grace and gold-green eyes, and said, “I was just wondering, Black,” he paused long enough that they had the attention of everyone in the classroom.  “Whether your flanks would quiver after I found that place in you that no man had ever been?”

Sirius had - for the second time in his life - no clever riposte at hand.  His tongue, which was very _very_ dry, had the consistency of a flobberworm.  The flanks in question now cradling a full erection.  Lupin’s voice was…

He dropped a book - _The Last Drunken Harlot_ \- on the desk.  Had Sirius noticed that the heroine’s corset was bursting?  Or that the hero in question looked like he was so… endowed?  He certainly did now. As well as everyone in Transfig. 

He was noticing so much of this that he did not notice Lupin walking away.  Or Mcgonagall walking towards him. “What is this, Mr Black?” She picked up _The Last Drunken Harlot_ and frowned at the cover.  “The garments are not, in fact, historically accurate.”  

Everyone laughed.  Including Potter, that big ungrateful bastard, who had left Sirius to amuse himself at the Cokeworth public pool.

“Ten points from Gryffindor.” 

Sirius looked up and Lupin was looking back.  There was something fierce about it. And then Lupin smiled.  

It was quite possibly the sexiest thing Sirius had seen in his life.  

*

Sirius was certain he was the only one who noticed when Lupin was out.  He should be, having mapped the wiry blond of the back of his head. He knew the cowlick and the way it curled at his ears when it hadn’t been cut.  

He was back on the 23rd, more subdued and favoring his right arm. 

Although Sirius spent every single meal at the Great Hall trying to make eye-contact, Lupin didn’t bite.  

*

Sirius resigned himself to going to the Library.

He was not Pince’s favorite person.  He and Potter had been banned indefinitely for crimes against a First Edition _Waffling’s Magical Theory_.  Thankfully, Dumbledore had turned down her request for a security troll.  

Lupin’s carrell was near the windows.  His neat row of books lined up on the shelf of his desk which Sirius had perused on more than one occasion.  Lupin was inordinately fond of dark creatures, myth and legend. 

Because he couldn’t be seen, Sirius went directly for the stacks.  He moved books until he had an unimpeded view of Lupin.

Lupin was working on an essay, his Grade 7 Spell Book stopping the edge of the parchment from rolling up.  He let the green vane play against his bottom lip, lost in swottish thoughts and hopefully finding that place in Sirius where no man had been.  Having got a bit sloppy in his reconnaissance, Sirius looked up and saw Lupin looking directly at him - through his tunnel of Switch and Jigger.  

And then he was getting up and coming over!  Staging needed, Sirius grabbed the nearest book and pretended to be reading a chapter on… _Being a true account of unfortunate ailments of the bowel_.  No one could play this off better than Sirius Black.  He bent his right leg at the knee and crossed his left.  He ran his hand through his dark hair, hoping for a tousled, please take me look.

Lupin was tall.  When he entered the stacks, his body blacked out the sunlight from the Library, giving him a golden corona that was just really unfair.  He didn’t even say anything. Just took the book from Sirius’ hand, snapped it shut, and set it aside. And then he had his hand in the hair at Sirius’ nape and kissed him.

It wasn’t like the last one.  This one was harder. More like a plundering than a taste.  His tongue was thorough and tasted like dark chocolate and tea.  Sirius made a breathless sound that never actually became audible and Lupin had him against the bookshelf, all hard planes and warm boy.  Having lost, completely, all the cool composure Sirius _usually_ had, he kissed back, tongue rebuffed by Lupin’s, hands all jumbled in the opening of Lupin’s robe.  

It was the defining moment of Sirius’ life.

Somehow, caught in this maelstrom of thought, Lupin undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt at the throat.  With his strong, mobile mouth working a path across his adam’s apple, down to the hollow of his throat. The _Take me_ was completely unintentional.  Lupin huffed a laugh against his skin.  

“You have an exquisite neck,” he said in response, having sucked Sirius’ blood vessels into brilliant submission.  Lupin nipped him and then stepped back. “And no sense of self-preservation.”

“Overrated,” Sirius managed.  

And then Lupin was walking off, a flick of his wand repairing any damage Sirius had wrecked with his hands.  “ _Oh, you’ll find him in there_ ,” Lupin said to Pince’s “ _Did I see Sirius Black?_ ”

He was replaced with a florid, furious Pince.  

100 points from Gryffindor.

It was totally worth it.

*

James, however, did not agree.  “He is using you to ruin our chance at the House cup!”  Evans, who was reading _How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf_ , looked on.  She had already promised Sirius the book after she was done with it.  

It seemed politic not to mention that the new Gryffindor Beaters were actually doing more damage.  Sensing this, Evans said, “James, leave off. Loathe though I am to defend Black, I don’t think Remus,” she always used his first name, “Is trying to destroy Gryffindor via his libido.  He’s actually a very sweet person.”

Sirius wanted Lupin to destroy Gryffindor with his libido.  He found it politic to not mention this, either.

“But he’s a Slytherin!”  This was James’ last line of defense.  Sirius knew he was losing steam. “And I’m much better built than that werewolf,” he grumbled.  

“Of course you are,” Evans consoled.  She did not put the book down. 

Lupin was out again on Thursday, October 27.

*

In the March 1976 edition of _The Cauldron_ , Hogwarts’ student newspaper, there was a two page spread on _Slytherin’s Own_ Remus John Lupin on the occasion of his winning the Alberta Toothill Prize.  

Horace Slughorn, that is not a polite question, Hogwarts: “Lupin is really an exception Slytherin.  Though he comes from rather, er, humble beginnings, he embodies all the attributes that define a member of my House: cunning, ambitious, creative, and resourceful.  Surprising for a Muggleborn. Although, of course, I have nothing against Muggleborns.”

_Remus: Slughorn thought my mother was a Selwyn until I told him she was a primary teacher.  Whose maiden name is Selwin._

Lucius Malfoy, 19, Wiltshire (Slytherin): [reading from a prepared script] “It was my absolute pleasure to recommend Lupin for the Alberta Toothill Prize.  Lupin and I have shared a Dorm for five years. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time in Slytherin with Lupin, and came to know him as a truly valuable asset to our House. Despite being a Muggle, he is honest, dependable, and incredibly hard-working. Along with his undeniable talent, Lupin has always been an absolute joy to work with. He is a true team player, and always manages to foster positive discussions and bring the best out of other students.  Without a doubt, I confidently recommended Lupin for the Alberta Toothill Prize. As a dedicated and knowledgeable scholar, I know that he will use the proceeds wisely. Please feel free to contact me should you like to discuss my own tenure as a Toothill Scholar.” 

Remus: _If I had a penny for every time I heard, “You wouldn’t know this, Lupin, but...” I would be wealthier than the Malfoys._

Peter Pettigrew, 16, Ottery-St Catchpole (Hufflepuff): I have no comment on Lupin.  Only that I hope he remembers that all that glitters is not gold.

Remus: _Sore loser._

Sirius Black, 16, London (Gryffindor): Remus John Lupin is the sexiest person who has ever existed in this world.  I wish he would turn around and notice that I have sat behind him in potions for three years.

Remus: _Sirius Black is too… distracting for his own good.  He also has disturbingly nice hair._

*

Sirius had fallen into his usual Potions activity: day dreaming about Lupin.  The thoughts he’d had, staring at the back of Lupin’s head, were so arousing that he often ran to the lavatory on the third floor for a quick wank before class.  He had never been more grateful for school robes in his life.

It had been nearly a month since Lupin kissed him.  And despite his best intentions (which were usually not classed as _best_ ) he had been unable to get him alone.  It was like he _always_ knew where Sirius was.  And avoided him.

It was uncanny. 

Sitting in the steamy class - they were working on the Beautification Potion - Sirius sulked.  Lupin had gone pink around his collar and the hair there had darkened from sweat. He really wanted to lick it.  In fact, there were any number of naughty things he _wanted_ to do.  Most involving his mouth.  He was so heavily invested in his thoughts - despite James’ ire and to the detriment to his rather gooey rose petals - that he didn’t notice Lupin turn around to look at him.  

“I’ll get more rose petals, you traitor,” James said before hieing for the potions cabinet.  

“You know, Black,” Lupin said, having stepped back enough pretending to check his fire that his back was to the edge of Sirius’ bench, “I keep having images of your mouth on my cock mysteriously appearing in my brain.  You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Sirius pinked.  “Er…”

“Because,” and Lupin sighed, “Your shite I guess...legilimency? is ridiculous.  I’ve never worn an eye-patch in my life.” Arms folded across his chest, Lupin gave every appearance of being completely bored.  His partner, Gabriel Shacklebolt, leaned over to stir their potion.

“Oh, now you’re going to talk to me?”

This time, Lupin blushed.  “ _This_ ,” he moved his right arm to motion between them, “ _Shouldn’t_ happen.”

James came back then, a distrustful look at Lupin, who stepped back towards his cauldron.  “Why don’t you work on the unicorn hair? It’s a lot harder to mess that up while being played by Slytherins.”

“Alright.”  Sirius carefully unspooled it, letting it soak in the bile it needed to dissolve the coating.  He thought _very hard_ about the Third Floor boy’s lavatory.  He had no idea what Lupin’s cock looked like, but he did the best he could.

Lupin snorted at about the same time their cauldron exploded.

10 points from Gryffindor.

*

“You can’t help yourself, can you?  It’s all that Gryffindor jump first, questions later.”  Sirius, who had been sitting on the sink nearest the door, couldn’t hide his grin when Lupin entered the lavatory.  He thought he _should_ get down off the sink.  But Lupin was _right there_ , broad and warm between his legs.  His hands were warm and clean smelling where they cupped Sirius’ chin and brought him up for a rather filthy kiss.  

“You could do with more jumping and less questioning,” Sirius tested, breathlessly grouchy.  Lupin laughed.

“Someone has to question your sanity.”  Lupin put his hand on his waist. Sirius completely approved.  Leaning forward, he added, “And I’m not _that_ endowed, Black.”

“Aren’t you?”  Sirius very obviously put _his_ hand on the placket of Lupin’s grey trousers.  He had also foregone a robe. Lupin moved his hips slightly back, giving distance between them and Sirius’ wandering hand.  Sirius frowned. Lupin put his mouth against the corner of his lips, placating.

“I’m having a birthday party.  On the 25th. Do you want to come?”  There was a rising hopefulness that he couldn’t help but hear in his own voice.  He wasn’t entirely sure a declination wouldn’t sting, but hey, you got nothing if you didn’t try.  He wanted to see Lupin in jeans. Or nothing, really. But he’d settle for jeans.

Lupin huffed a laugh against his neck.  “Why don’t I give you a blow job?”

“Oh.  Oh, yes.  That works, too.” 

And then Sirius, who had until this point only a toothy, tugging sort of relationship with blow jobs, stopped breathing as Lupin opened his flies and teased his cock out of his boxers.  No subtlety, no coyness, Lupin held him at the root and swallowed him just like that, his right hand on Sirius’ hip for stability. It was wet and messy and _Merlin’s tit_ , it was fucking amazing.  His hands in a death grip on the sink, his arse in the bowl, his head was thrown back against the mirror while his body very quickly neared combustion.  “Lupin, I--”

And then Sirius was coming, his hips jerking against Lupin’s chin and cheeks while he came.  And came. And came. Lupin _growled_ against his skin, his grip tightening at his hip, before he slowly pulled off with a wet _pop_ that echoed in the room.   

It took him a moment to compose himself and then, “Let me do you.”

“Ah, no.”  Lupin said, although Sirius could _feel_ how affected he was by their furious oral.  “I have a free. But you have class in…” he cast a quick _tempus_.  “About four minutes.” Lupin looked down at him, his face flushed, his green-gold eyes dark.  “But I appreciate the offer.” He kissed Sirius again, a quick hard thing, and then walked out of the bathroom. 

He was fifteen minutes late and lost 20 points from Gryffindor.

*

“This is an intervention.”  James said, a beater’s bat in his right hand and Lily looking on from where she was sitting on the couch.  She looked up from her book: _The Fragrance of a Sorcerer_ to roll her eyes.  Sirius was fairly certain that she was on his side.  Probably because he slipped her _The Portal of the Sacred Witch_ over dinner.  He hadn’t minded giving it over, unread.  He had plenty of wank material from practical experience.  He squirmed a bit, just thinking about it.

“That’s right, Pads,” James said, misinterpreting his squirming for anxiety, “You _should_ be nervous of my wrath.”

Now Sirius rolled his eyes.  “I haven’t been nervous about your wrath since… well, never.”

“I think we both know you’re an idiot ruled by your cock.”

“James, language,” Lily said from the couch.  “There are First Years about.”

“I think there is something very suspicious about Remus Lupin,” James’ dark eyes glittered, magnified by his glasses.

“Point,” Lily conceded.  “He _does_ have a thing for Black.” 

“I am _very_ thing-able,” Sirius defended.

“For one thing,” James ticked off the pointer finger of his non-beater holding hand.  “He voluntarily gave up his position as Prefect. Who does that?”

“Are you not the person who once said, and I quote, _Prefects are--_ ”

“I remember very well what I said.” 

“What did you say about Prefects?”  Lily asked, book down, and looking pointedly at James.  Who was now squirming himself. “I would love to hear the exemplary wit of James Potter.”

“You may be waiting for a while,” Sirius noted.  He was still buzzing from Lily acknowledging that Lupin had a _thing_ for him.  Validation was a heady thing.

“Secondly,” James said, avoiding the question altogether, “He has a serious attendance problem.”

“Your point?  Do you remember when you missed a week in Defense when we--” Sirius broke off.  “When we were otherwise engaged in _studious_ pursuits that fundamentally changed our lives.”   The animagus week. Neither he nor James were consistent in their illegal Animaging.  Prongs had had to hide in the room of requirement for a week while stuck as a buck. James still maintained that the mandrake leaves he’d bought off Pettigrew in Hufflepuff were defective.  

“Thirdly…”

*

Lupin did not show up for Sirius’ birthday party.  He would never admit to having looked up every time the door to the Gryffindor common room opened.  Although Lily came over with a consoling hand, “It’s your party, Sirius. You can cry if you want to.”  There was an annoying sing-song quality to it.

He did, rather, feel like crying.  But took another shot of firewhiskey and laughed at some joke Longbottom made instead.  

At about 3 in the morning, after everyone else had gone to their dorms, Sirius lay on the red velvet couch, staring at the familiar spoked beams of the high ceiling.  In the middle was a brilliant lion medallion. During first year, he had counted the beams and made a wish. For a box of Bertie Botts Every-Flavor Beans. He did get the beans.  But he wished now that he hadn’t squandered it. That he could instead wish that Lupin would be _here_.  On this couch in the Gryffindor common room, tangled up with him.  He might even be able to coax his shoes off, Lupin’s long, long legs leaving his feet off the edge.  

After serious consideration of approximately five minutes, he decided that if the mountain would not come to Merlin, Merlin would go to the mountain.  Sirius was nothing if not completely confident in the _rightness_ of his decisions.  James’ invisibility cloak was easy to filch.  And he had a general sense of where the Slytherin common room was.  He definitely knew the password.

For purely academic reasons, of course.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the Slytherin’s den of iniquity (Sirius fervently hoped Lupin adhered to the iniquity part).  And while Lupin’s security charms were quite good, Sirius was a past expert at breaking and entering. He had no idea how the Slytherins got their own rooms while he had to share with the rest of the 7th year Gryffindors.  If he didn’t know how much the Slytherins _liked_ Lupin, he would have suspected it was because he was a Muggle.  The threat of contamination and all that.

For whatever reason, Lupin was not there.  Which Sirius took as a good reason to stay.

He carefully folded up the cloak and sort of jammed it in his shoes.  Which he slipped under Lupin’s bed. Because he was Sirius Black, he rifled through Lupin’s dresser and closet.  There wasn’t really anything particularly incriminating - no doubt a necessary protection in Slytherin - but the jumpers he found in the closet smelled like Lupin.  In fact, he swapped out his shirt for one. And his trousers for a pair of faded pajama bottoms that were far too long. He rolled them up. And then he put himself in Lupin’s bed.  Tucked against the wall under the heavy down of his duvet.

He woke up, rather groggily, to grey light (the windows had to be spelled, the common room was under the Lake for Merlin's’ sake) with Lupin looking down at him.  He was in a white undershirt and boxers. And sexy as fuck. “I have no idea what to do with you.” It was definitely amused, tinged with awe, and almost fond. Sirius could think of a _lot_ of things Lupin should do with him.  But he pretended to be asleep because he didn’t want Lupin to kick him out.

Instead, the bed dipped as Lupin got into it.  The duvet moving a bit as he spelled it larger.  And because he was four inches taller than last year and wider, he had to turn on his right side to fit.  He was blazing warm against Sirius’ back. He smelled like grass, the crisp outdoors, and oddly enough, murtlap.

*

Lupin was still asleep when Sirius woke up again.  They weren’t quite touching, apparently Lupin was one of the rare creatures that didn’t move at all during sleep, and Lupin was lovely in sleep.  Relaxed, mouth slightly open, his fair hair almost burnished against the white pillow.

He also had a good 5cm gash on his neck, just above the collar.  It was healing: pink and angry. But he had definitely not had it the day before.  Sirius would have noticed.

 _Where had he been?_  The thought of someone hurting Lupin filled him with possessive indignation.  So much indignation that his bladder complained. With a silent _leviosa_ \- he was very good at silent spells for many not entirely innocent reasons - he floated over Lupin and then grabbed the invisibility cloak.

The shared lavatory - at least they had shared lavatories or there would be a Gryffindor mutiny founded by Sirius - was empty.  Not surprising at fuck o’clock in the morning. Sirius came back right away. Lupin had rolled over and fallen into the valley where Sirius had previously been.  There were scratches on his left arm, peeking out of the duvet, and the circles under his eyes were dark.

Something in his chest lurched.  But he ignored it.

Instead, he looked through the potions that had not been on his dresser the night before: blood replenishment and Skele-grow and something purple that he’d never seen before.  He wondered what could possibly be so wrong with Lupin that magic couldn’t quite heal him. Maybe some rare Wizarding thing? Most of the pure-blood families had something. But wasn’t Lupin a Muggle?

“I’m surprised you haven’t found my stash of porn yet,” Lupin said from the bed.  His eyes were closed and his feet were peeking out from under the duvet. “You’ve gone through everything else.”

“Well…” it sort of hung there.  Sirius really had no way of fobbing it off.  He was an unrepentant sneak.

“Um,” Remus groaned a bit and Sirius heard his bones crack a bit as he turned.  “Leave off, Black. And come back to bed. It’s too early to be awake.” Sirius did not need to be asked twice.  He got back into bed and pushed himself back until he was caught in the spoon of Lupin’s front. Lupin put his nose into Sirius’ neck and sighed.  “You look ridiculous in my jumper.”

“I’m not giving it back.”

“I suspected as much.”  Sirius’ skin prickled at the puffs of Lupin’s breath against his skin.  “I’ve never slept with a person before. It’s not as bad as I thought it might be.”

Sirius decided that Lupin was too tired to be in his right mind.  And duly decided to take shameless advantage of that.

“Sleeping with _me_ is fantastic.  Everyone else pales in comparison.  You will never be able to do without now.”

Lupin snorted.  

Sirius wiggled and twitched and generally couldn’t get comfortable.  He was wide awake, in Lupin’s bed, surrounded by Lupin. And he was … _oh fuck_ … straining against the worn flannel of the borrowed (Lupin: _stolen_ ) pajama bottoms.  The slide of them against his cock was absolute torture.  He shifted anyway.

“I forgot to give you your birthday gift,” Lupin said in his ear, just before nipping at the lobe.  And then his large, warm hands were in the pajama bottoms. Stoking. Nothing Lupin did was gentle. But he did it with careful precision, a quiet intensity that made Sirius feel a bit consumed.  He tilted his hips, seating himself more fully in Lupin’s fist, and groaned into the pillow at the merciless tug and pull. Lupin growled into his ear and Sirius _loved it_.  

Lupin pulled off and they were pushing down bottoms and boxers, the snap of elastic and the awkward tangle of limbs following.  Sirius cursed at his clumsiness and Lupin was _hard_ against his hip.  There was a whisper from the other boy and then a warm - what magic was this? - trail of lube spanning from his arse to where Lupin had his cock in hand again.  Lupin’s own cock slotted in the crevice between his thighs, smooth and insistent. Sirius clamped his legs together and Lupin gasped his approval. They moved together, sighs and gasps and moans following in their wake.  Sirius came almost instantly (sadly, he was certain he lasted no more than two minutes) and Lupin continued to fuck into his thighs until he was coming. It clung to Sirius’ skin and dribbled onto the sheets.

The duvet had been kicked off at some point.

“Oh my god,” Lupin said, endearing Muggle, and pained.  “That was the worst idea ever.”

“What?”  Sirius squeaked.  They had just had absolutely fabulous sex and he was not in the mood for another moody shift from the Slytherin.

“Pass me the purple potion, please.”

Sirius softened and then felt very, very guilty.  “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”  Lupin quaffed the potion in its entirety, grimacing after he did so.  

“What’s wrong with you?”  Sirius asked, taking the empty vial and putting it back on the dresser

“Ugh,” Lupin sighed, falling back with his right forearm over his eyes.  “Do you have time for the entire list?”

Sirius wanted to say _yes_.  But Lupin’s tone said that he wasn’t going to actually say anymore.  He was not a patient person. But Lupin was to be savored. And savoring meant sips.  Not gulping mouthfuls.

Instead, Sirius used his wand - which had fallen on the floor - to clean himself (and Lupin) off.  His cleaning spells were perfunctory (at best) and abrasive. Lupin yelped and Sirius offered a “Sorry.”  

It was a bit awkward then.  In the dark room with the lemony scent of his cleaning spell in the air.

Lupin must have noticed, because he said, “C’mere.”  Sirius, who really had no sense of self-preservation, did.  “I have no idea why you like me.”

This was the most astounding statement ever.  Didn’t Lupin know how incredibly sexy he was? That he was brilliant and evil and apparently had a _warm_ lube spell?  His agitation visible, Lupin held him tighter.  Laughing. “I need to sleep, Black. I have no idea how you got in here without getting caught, but if you leave tap the quill on the painting of Phineus Black - who I’m _sure_ you’ll recognise - at the end of the hall.  You’ll end up in an abandoned classroom.”

“You’re amazing.”  Every wild scheme he’d ever had about pranking the Slytherins ran like a movie through his head.

“You can’t get back in that way, so don’t get too excited.”

*

Lupin was so guarded that Siris didn’t know if they were dating.  Or just sort of hanging out in the same place. A lot.

Preparation for NEWTs was an ever present _thing_ that Sirius just got on with.  His philosophy was that if he didn’t know something by now he would probably never know it.

Sirius was getting on with it in the Library.  After dipping into his store of Muggle hair for the Marauders’ ever-brewing polyjuice.  He was currently a freckle faced girl of about 12. With pigtails and some metal contraption on his teeth.  He would have never thought he’d be using polyjuice to get _into_ a library.

He kept making eyes at Lupin, but it was very difficult to smile.  He had no idea how Muggles got on.

McGonagall had put up the Christmas List for those who were staying at Hogwarts over the Hols.  And Remus John Lupin was Number 3. He couldn’t understand why Lupin would stay at Hogwarts. He had neat, tidy parents who clearly loved him.  Presumably a Christmas tree and pudding and a neat, tidy yule log. And maybe some punch. Because for some reason Sirius thought Muggles had punch on Christmas.  He wanted Lupin to have these things.

He looked over at the frowning blond, who had condescended to sharing a table with a rotating array of previously unknown Hogwarts students.  He couldn’t _quite_ figure Lupin out.  They hadn’t really been alone together since November.  He was fairly certain that Lupin liked him. He would make deliciously snarky comments in Potions while James scowled (although he laughed once and _then_ scowled).  He always seemed to be coming upon Sirius, a little pleased _oh_ from the Slytherin every time.  Sirius didn't think he knew he did it.  

It was like Lupin liked him _in spite of_ himself.

“Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to share your insanely randy thoughts while sitting across from a 12-year-old girl?”

“Is it working?”  Sirius asked, hopefully.  With the clacky squeak of a 12-year-old in braces.

“I wish you looked like you,” and then Lupin stopped, seeming to catch himself before blushing.  It reminded Sirius of the warm flush of Lupin’s face post-coitus. And he projected that directly into Lupin’s head.  “I really hate you.” When he looked up, Sirius waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t think I can continue this here. I think I’m going to head back to Slytherin.”

“Wait, no!”  Sirius said. “I’m sorry.  I’ll stop.”

“I didn’t mean alone.” 

“You want _me_ to go to Slytherin?”  Sirius felt himself flashing a, rather painful, smile.  For the life of him, he could not understand _why_ someone would have so much metal in their mouth.  “Like walk right in there… with you?” He and Prongs had once _flooded_ the Slytherin common room.  He would be pulled limb from limb.  Maybe even roasted over a spit. If the Slytherin had a spit in their watery den.

“I’m sure you have other ways, Black.  But yes. Provided you don’t make me feel like a pedo.”

When they walked into Slytherin, no one _did_ anything.  Even though Sirius was Sirius again.

It was the first time Sirius had not entered as an enemy combatant.  And frankly, he had expected a more, er, _spectacular_ response to his walking in with Lupin.  There were a lot of surreptitious glances and chair shifting.  Lupin was right behind him, had put his hand on the small of his back in fact, and they walked completely unmolested down the hall to Lupin’s room.

“That was slightly disappointing.”

“I don’t think you really understand Slytherins, Black.”  Lupin unclasped his robe and hung it up in his closet. He reached out for Sirius’ and did the same.  “A Slytherin would never be so gauche as to play their hand so openly. And besides,” Lupin used his pointer finger to loosen his tie, “Anyone who laid a hand on you would sorely regret it.” 

 _Oh_.  Cue melting innards.  It was possible, of course, that Lupin meant it in a _I have very non-sexual devilish plans for you that preempts any mischief other Slytherins might intend._  But Sirius _hoped_ that he meant it in an _Anyone who laid a hand on you would sorely regret it because I’m going to lay my hands on you in a decidedly sexual fashion_.  And maybe the devilish plans, too.

He had hoped that they would get right into it: practice Lupin’s warm lube charm and then test out Sirius’ silencing charms.

But Lupin picked up his Arithmancy book and balanced it on his knee.  Sirius frowned. At least he was on the bed and not in the straight-backed chair at his desk.  With a sigh, Sirius shook out his bag, trying to locate the Transfig book he _thought_ was in there.  And _The Serpent’s Promise_ fell out.  It was the loudest thud of Sirius’ life as the much dogeared novel hit the floor.  Bouncing to reveal it’s lurid cover.

This one had been particularly interesting as Lily found a Muggle mail order form for gay pulp novels.  He had ordered all of them - by Muggle post - and they’d started to arrive in neat, plain brown packages.  Lily loved them. _It’s subversive_ , she said over breakfast.   _And incredibly hot_.  Lily Evans was a pervert.

For the barest of moments, Sirius thought Lupin hadn’t seen it.  

But still looking down at his textbook, he said, “What exactly is this serpent promising?”

“That my flanks would quiver after yo-- _they_ found that place in me that no man had ever been.”

Lupin didn’t look up, but as Sirius spent a great deal of time looking at the placket of his pants (when his arse was not on view), he did not miss the effect the words had on him.  

Now _this_ was promising.

Sirius turned just a bit and leaned over to pick up the novel.  Hoping, beyond hope, that Lupin got a nice eye-full. He was not disappointed. 

“Hasn’t anyone shown you?”  Lupin asked, his voice pitched just a bit oddly.  

“Nope.”  There had been a great deal of attempts (both his own and others), many ending in a sore bum, but he had never found it.  “What about you?”

But Lupin was cagey.  He closed his textbook and looked at Sirius.  “Well.”

Sirius took that as his cue to undo his flies, surreptitiously casting a cleaning spell.  “Should I just lay down then?” He asked, the thumb of his right hand playing along the elastic of his pants.  “On my front, of course.” He kicked off the boxers and stood there completely naked.

It took a special sort of person to just stand naked in the middle of a room.  But Sirius Black was _definitely_ that sort of person.  

“No,” Lupin’s eyes never wavered from Sirius, although he made no move to remove his own clothing.  “Come here.” Sirius complied. Lupin put his hand on his left hip, just above the curve of his arse, and then kissed the dark hairs that trailed down his abdomen.  “I was only offering to get a rise out of you.”

“You succeeded.”

“You’ve never?”

Sirius shook his head.  “I’ve heard,” from the stack of gay pulp novels in his trunk, “That it’s really good.”  Lupin mouthed his hip and Sirius heard him say, very quietly,

“I’ve never done it before either.”

“Um,” Sirius bent Lupin’s head back by his hair and then kissed him.  Breaking off to say, “That’s alright. We can figure it out together.”

After many, many positions, they discovered that Sirius on his side, top leg bent forward was the best.  Lupin showed him how to cast the warm lube spell (although it was only tepid for Sirius) and mapped every inch of him.  Sirius begging him to _just fuck me_ to Lupin’s _I’m not giving up until we find it._

And then he found it.  “ _Oh, I think that’s it,_ ” Sirius hissed.  It was a good, breathy hiss, and his body tensed up while Lupin continued to stroke.  And stroke. And stroke. Eventually his body was trembling and Lupin asked _Should I stop?_  And Sirius said _No, oh no, noooo_.  Or a reasonable approximation of such.  It was an endless cycle of warmth and pressure, as he compressed and eased against Lupin’s finger.  It went on forever. Much like Sirius’ groans.

“My god,” Lupin sighed in his endearing Muggleness, “Watching you writhe around because of _me_ is…” He couldn’t seem to find the words and just sighed, “ _It does things_.”

It was that, and the building pressure, that finally did it.  He could feel every follicle of his hair. His skin was sizzling.  On a raw _uhhh_ Sirius was coming with a force so intense that he felt he was spontaneously combusting.  They would only find the charred remains of Sirius Black on Lupin’s bed. Lupin pulled out as soon as Sirius was coming. 

A moment or so later, Sirius could feel _every single one_ of the droplets of Lupin’s own semen as he came on his arse.  

Of course, he had now lost all ability to walk.  Ever again. His abdomen twitched, his legs were trembling, and his skin had gone all goose flesh.  And Lupin was stroking his hair. “Are you alright?” Lupin’s magic was delicate and precise. His cleaning spell was a breath on his skin, which was good because he would have died under any more pressure.  And his warming charm was perfect. Like Lupin. In fact, Sirius said, “Merlin, you’re perfect.”

To which Lupin said, completely avoiding the most important part (his being perfect), “I think you actually hit the wall.”

Lupin knew a lot of spells.  He cleaned Sirius’ clothes and had them neatly fold themselves on his desk.  He put his books and parchment back in his bag. Performed a complicated mouth washing charm that left Sirius tasting cardamon and then tucked him neatly into bed.  Sirius closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Lupin was in his flannel pajama bottoms laying on the outside edge, staring at him.

It was definitely an _I can’t believe this is happening_ sort of staring.  With a sort of dazy smile playing at his lips.  Sirius’ was more of a _If you think you can escape me, Lupin, you are sadly mistaken_.

*

“Sirius Black.”  When James Potter took that tone, it did not bode well.  He could only assume that it had something to do with his name on the Christmas List.  Number 14.

He _might_ have forgotten to tell James.

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Obviously _not_.  Or you would have remembered that we were going _home_ for Christmas.  And,” he hit the couch cushion hard, sending sweets wrappers and dust into the air around him.  “I told you that Lupin was up to no good.”

True, Sirius had lost 250 points from Gryffindor in his dealings with the Slytherin.  And it was only December. But it was totally worth it. 

He just had to convince James of that.  

“Listen, I’ll tell you I’m sorry if you want me to.”

“I want you to _actually_ be sorry, Pads.”  James ran a hand through his thick hair.  “You’ve never been sorry about anything in your life, have you?”

Sirius looked up from his book - for all intents and purposes a small Charms primer, but really the exciting _Bear to the Bone_ \- with a smile for James.  “I’ve been sorry about things.”

“Oh?”

“Of course I have.  In September I thought I would never have a chance with Remus John Lupin.  I was definitely feeling sorry for myself then.”

“Why do you always say his name like that?”  Lily asked, coming up from behind Prongs and lacing her arms around his shoulders.  “REMUS. JOHN. LUPIN.” She laughed at Sirius’ twisted mouth. “You would think that after knowing someone in the biblical sense,” Lily was also endearingly Muggle, though not as endearingly as Lupin, “You might start just calling them by their first name.” 

“Don’t encourage him.”  James groused.

“I _like_ Remus,” James pulled her down over his shoulder and into his lap.  

“But he’s a _Slytherin_.”

“Yes.”  She - and Sirius - said at the same time.  Both rather fondly. “There was a time in Third Year where a tortured young Gryffindor was in sore need of assistance from one James _I’m-a-Wanker_ ,” that she put in air quotes, “Potter.  Your face,” she was laughing now while James glowered down at her and Sirius leaned forward to hear the last, “When you couldn’t sit down for a week.  That itching powder cost a small fortune.” Pause. “It was totally worth it.”

“HE DID THAT?!?”

“I _told you_ that Snape wasn’t smart enough,” Sirius reminded him.  He turned back to Lily, “So tell me more about Lupin’s misdeeds.”

*

Luring Lupin into the Gryffindor dorms was becoming the tenth labor of Hercules.

With the Hogwarts Express leaving on the morning of the 23rd, James had left him with the dire prediction that “ _Remus John Lupin_ is hiding something.  It’s on your head if it costs us the Cup.”  He came back to add, “And if you have sex on my bed I will murder you.”

He had found Lupin on the Astronomy Tower after dinner, staring at the sky.  It was clear, but bitterly cold and windy. Only a couple of days to a full moon and Christmas.  Certainly not a night to be outside. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Why?”  Turning towards Sirius, Lupin looked truly surprised.  His cheeks were chapped from the wind and his hands were tucked deep in his pockets.  He wasn’t dressed for the outdoors at all. Just his grey Slytherin jumper and perfectly creased trousers.  He was even still wearing his tie. Sirius had shucked his school kit the minute the last student left the school.  He was in his dark wash jeans and Lupin’s jumper. Which was an orangey-brown striped thing.

“Because I like you.  And I want to raid the kitchens for chocolate cake.” 

“I’m not really good company right now.”  Lupin raked his nails over his short hair.  “And didn’t you just eat supper?”

“Yes to the former.  You don’t have to talk.  To the latter.” Sirius could see that Lupin was fighting himself.  So Sirius took his arm and pulled him towards the alcove and the steps beyond.  There was light resistance and then Lupin just gave way. It was probably pushing it to coax his hand out, but Lupin seemed to have decided to just go with it.  He didn’t pull away from Sirius. His hands were very warm. Weird, but nice.

They raided the kitchens and they were halfway to Gryffindor when Lupin stopped.  “I’m not going to Gryffindor.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s go back to mine.”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing.”  Lupin sighed.  “ _Per se_.”

“Per se?”  Sirius looked at him.  “Why are you so evasive?”

“I don’t mean to be.”  He seemed to be looking for words.  “I mean. I don’t _want_ to be.  But...” He let the last word hang, undefined.

“You can tell me anything.”  Sirius said, really really meaning it.  “I don’t think I could dislike anything about you.” 

Lupin’s left eyebrow shot up.  His eyes were particularly bright: clear and more gold than green.  “I highly doubt that.” And then before Sirius could continue on (a stratagem that he only noticed later), he said, “I bet you can’t get into the Ravenclaw common room.”

“What?!  That’s child’s play.”

“Alright.  Let’s see what you’ve got.”

It took Sirius twenty minutes to give.  “Listen,” he said, addressing the eagle knocker.  “I know there’s bad blood between the two of us. But I think we should let bygones be bygones.”  He didn’t even know that knockers _could_ frown.

Lupin, who had eaten two cupcakes while he sat on the floor, got up with the audible crack of bones.  “What is in motion moves neither in the place it is nor in one in which it is not.”

The door swung open. 

Lupin made up for his defeat with an achingly slow blowjob in front of the Ravenclaw fireplace with the portrait of Ignatia Wildsmith shocked and covering her eyes.  

*

On Christmas Day, Lupin kicked Sirius out of his bed and told him to go to the Potter’s.  Sirius had made the concession of flooing over for the day. He was wobbly and happy, rooting through his trunk for the prezzies he had for his adopted family.  

“You look disgustingly happy,” was the first thing James said to him as he came through the fireplace, disturbing the stockings stuck to the mantle.  

“Whereas you’re just disgusting.”

They had a pick-up game of Quidditch with every Potter relation that had crawled out of the woodwork - there were thousands of them - and then Sirius gorged himself on curries, koftas (which Mrs Potter only made at holidays), and more sweets than he probably should have.  They didn’t let him leave until late. “Stay,” James begged. “Leftovers tomorrow and Evans is coming over.”

“Even more reason to leave.”  

When he came back through Mcgonagall’s fireplace, he rushed up to Gryffindor to shower and put on his jeans and the new wool jumper Mrs Potter had given him.  When he got down to Slytherin, however, Lupin was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in his room or the common room. He checked the library and ended up systematically going through the castle looking for him.  He even peeked in the hospital wing and was shooed out by Pomfrey.

Where on earth had he gone?  Sirius, who had found early the benefit of sucking up to the portraits, finally asked the slightly tipsy party of wizards on the Grand Staircase.   Von Rheticus, immediately said, “I supposeth the same lodging he is at the full.” Witches and wizards booed him for his loose tongue.

“Pay him no heed, my dear.  He is quite _spongey_ at the moment.”  He took that to mean drunk.  And with valuable intelligence.

So Lupin went somewhere on full moons.  To a lodging of some kind. That wasn’t his room.  He ran back up to the dorm and dug into his trunk, pulling out his Charms book.  After a quick glance over the index, he turned to something called _inveniret hominem_.  “To find a person one knows.”  He did the incantation and wand movement and a dotted line shot out from his wand.  It travelled as far as the door and then came back and then blinked out. He did it three times with the same effect.  He knew it was working as he’d cast it for the twin Second Years staying over and it took him straight to them. Had he made himself unfindable?  And if he had, why?

Brain whirring with plans and plots, Sirius snapped open a drawer within a drawer within a drawer in his trunk.  Which contained the liquid luck. He took a long draught of the stuff. It rolled down his throat like honey. After a moment or so, he had the feeling that he should take out a parchment and write _Remus John Lupin_ on it.  Seal it with wax and have his owl, Fewmet, deliver it.  Under a first year tracking spell that he had used to find socks and firecrackers.

Felix tugged him by the navel towards James’ invisibility cloak (foolishly left behind), taking a misstep and tripping on _How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf_.  He had been looking for it everywhere and apparently Potter had stolen it. 

He was then drawn down the stairs and through the passage behind a statue of Gunhilda de Goosemoor that led, oddly enough, into the caretaker’s shed.  Maybe he was with Hagrid? It was clear and cold outside, the full moon high and proud above the Caretaker’s cottage. Felix nudged him away from the cottage and down a path towards Hogsmeade, his feet sometimes visible as the wind whipped the hem of the cloak.  

It led him directly to the haunted house that lay boarded up and honestly creepy between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.

This was _definitely_ where Lupin was.  Fewmet flying near one of the windows, trying to find a way in.  Felix had him call Fewmet off and back to the owlery. There was a terrible cry from the house that made Sirius jump.  Why was Lupin in _there_?  And Merlin’s tit, what if he was in trouble?  Sirius had no idea what sort of things lived in there.  There were terrible stories about the Shrieking Shack.  

Felix told him to take off the invisibility cloak and tuck it under a nearby rock.

And then had him transfigure into Padfoot.

*

When Sirius woke up, he was covered in blood.  It had saturated the cream colored jumper. His jeans were heavy and stiff with it.  He pushed himself off the cold floor, blinking his eyes in the dim light.

Lupin was lying naked in the corner, a thick metal collar locked around his throat held to the wall with the thickest chain he had ever seen.  He was pale and limp. And he could see the bone of his left thigh. Sirius jumped up and ran over to him. “ _Remus_.”  The boy was cold, but breathing.  With great effort, he worked his wand out of his jeans and cast healing and warming charms.  “Fuck, I’m so bad at this.” The superficial cuts healed over, but they did nothing for his thigh.  Sirius took off his sweater, his breath coming out in cloudy huffs, and applied pressure to it. Lupin groaned weakly under the press.  “I’m so sorry, love.”

Lupin whimpered and Sirius offered a soft litany of syllables that were meant to comfort.   

Eventually, Pomfrey and the caretaker, Hagrid, came in.  Pomfrey with a startled, “Black! Merlin’s cup, you just took forty years off my life.  Did he--”

“No, he didn’t bite me.”  Although Sirius had vague memories of his biting Lupin.   

Hagrid unlocked Lupin and wrapped him in a blanket before carrying him back to Hogwarts.  Apparently there was a passageway between the grounds of Hogwarts and the Shack. After Lupin was drugged and healing - an anxious Sirius fluttering around - she looked him over and then sent him to the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore was not surprised to see him.  “As you are now aware, Mr Lupin is a werewolf.  You put yourself at great risk with last evening’s prank.  You are very lucky that you weren’t injured.” He paused. “Or killed.  The Wizarding world does not take kindly to dark creatures who murder.” 

Sirius blanched.  “But it’s Lupin.” 

“Precisely.  A Muggle-born werewolf with no connections.  There are very few who know his secret. What do you intend to do?”

He couldn’t just say that he intended to go straight back to the hospital ward and sit with Lupin.  And then curl up around him in Slytherin. Possibly forever. He was perhaps not thinking straight, the lycanthropy revelation had rather stunned him.  But as Padfoot it just _was_.  And Padfoot, at least, seemed to have good instincts.  “I won’t tell anyone. I would never do that.” 

Dumbledore had risen to face the portraits of the former Headmasters.  “I think it would be best if you didn’t have contact with Mr Lupin.”

“What?  No!”

“Impertinence!”  Sirius turned and flicked Phineas Black a rather vehement V with his fingers.

Dumbledore turned back towards him.  “It appears that your presence had a very strong effect on him.  He’s being transported to St Mungos.” Dumbledore stared at him for a quieting while. “And as a measure of how grave your decision-making was last night: 500 points from Gryffindor.”

*

_James, I fucked up.  Meet me at St Mungo’s._

He didn’t _engorgio_ the Triumph until he had hit Hogsmeade and was able to apparate to London.  It was cold and wet in the city, and he flew down the streets until he reached the crumbling facade of Purge and Dowse Ltd.  He cast a repelling charm on the bike - against both the weather and potential thieves - and then tried to get in to see Lupin.

“There is no Lupin at St Mungo’s at this time,” the Witch at the front desk said with authority.  

“Can you look again?”

“There is no Lupin at St Mungo’s at this time.”

“I’m not leaving until you let me in to see Lupin.”  He was furious and couldn’t very well ask about werewolves. 

“Well, get comfortable then,” she snapped.  “Because you’ll probably be here a while.”

“Fuck, Pads,” James said, popping into the foyer with Lily and the Potters just behind.

“You brought _everyone_?”

“You didn’t specify that this was a social call.  Mum thought you were dying!”

As it turned out, the sorting hat knew it’s business very well.  Outside of cultivating Lupin’s cunning, ambitiousness, creativity, and resourcefulness, being sorted into Slytherin quite possibly saved his life.  

The connections that he’d made, carefully and bound under a thick weave of favors and grudging admiration, ensured that he had a private room with a senior and very circumspect Healer.  His name had been struck off the Werewolf Registry. So thoroughly that no one even knew he had been there in the first place.

Mrs Potter was on the Chair of St Mungo’s and was able to find Lupin.  “It appears he’s broken his leg,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Sirius.  “But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Sirius couldn’t answer that, his eyes falling on the neat, tidy Lupins.  Now worried and worn around the edges. It had been painful to see them start at Mrs Potter’s kindness.  But when it was evident she didn’t know about the lycanthropy, they relaxed visibly. And let Sirius in to see him.

Lupin was awake, turning towards Sirius as he entered.  Sirius was ready to jump out of his skin, tied in knots and guilt and worry.  “You know, Black,” Lupin finally said. “You didn’t have to come down here to break up with me.”

“We  _are_ dating?”  Very happy surprise and then, “Er.  We’re not breaking up.” Sirius felt confident enough to come closer.  Close enough that his thighs were touching the railing at the side of the bed.

Lupin hesitated, moving his hand towards Sirius’ arm, and Sirius snatched it before he could pull away.  He brought his other hand to Sirius’ cheek, eyes earnest and searching. “Did I… did I hurt you?”

“No.  No, I’m fine.”  

“I could have killed you.”

“I thought you’d know by now that I’m _really_ hard to get rid of.  And,” he pressed a finger to Lupin’s mouth before he could argue the point, dropping his voice.  “I’m an unregistered animagus. A dog. I have vague memories of… I guess playing with you? But you were chained to a wall.  Which we have to talk about. When you’re better.”

Lupin buried his face in his stomach, while Sirius held him, thumb circling the nape of his neck.  

“I’m not sure if you’re a really horrible human being or amazing,” Lupin said muffled against shirt and jacket and skin.

“Let’s go with amazing.”

*

Sirius was sitting on the red velvet couch thumbing through _The Wizard’s Swollen Staff_ when the portrait swung open and Lupin came through.  He walked in confidently and very carefully closed the door to murmurs of adoration by the Fat Lady.  He had a slight limp and James asked how he was getting on.

“Much better, thank you.  Although I’ve completely gone off Filch’s cat.”  They’d told anyone who wondered that Lupin had tripped on the cat.  And no one disbelieved it.

“It was only a matter of time, really,” James commisserated.  If Gryffindor hadn’t started the season with a ten hour Quidditch match versus Hufflepuff that netted them more than the 750 house points that Sirius had lost them, things would have been very different.  As it was, James was a hero and Lupin getting one (or two or 750) over Sirius was the stuff of legend.

“Shall we go up?”  Sirius asked, closing his book and throwing it at Evans.  “It gets good around page 53.”

“Cheers, Black.”

When they were in the boy’s dorm, Lupin stopped limping.  He had been doing it to remind James that he should feel sorry for him.  Sirius had no reason to gainsay him. Devious and sexy. “So this is it?”  He asked, looking around the chaos and color that was the Gryffindor dorm. 

“This is mine,” Sirius had straightened it _a lot_ , digging out all the detritus from his duvet and sheets and scourgifying his sheets within an inch of their life.  It had taken him nearly six months to get him to come over. Well, six months and… six years. He had bribed every single one of his roommates.  And cast a very strong deterring spell on the door. All comers would suddenly have an overwhelming need to go to the kitchens. “What do you think?” 

“Nice view.”  He was looking at Sirius.   

“It’s even better from over there.”  He was pointing at the bed.

“Is that so?”  Lupin started to walk over, obviously wooed by Sirius’ smoothness, but tripped over something.  Oh fuck. It was _How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf_.  Sirius looked at Lupin, who looked at him.  “I actually read that book.”

“What?”

“The one you dropped on the train.  It was atrocious. But,” Lupin smiled, throwing the novel on Longbottom’s bed, “It smelled like you.”  Lupin had a fantastic sense of smell. He could tell the very moment when Sirius was going to come and _just_ back off.  Which had annoyed Sirius enormously.  Until he had a phenomenal orgasm. In fact, quite a lot of them.  Which he had been promised.

Lupin always followed through.  He was, afterall, a swot - a _Prefect_ , well, ex-Prefect - _proper_ in ways that the Blacks would have died for Sirius to be, and his boyfriend.  But he was also devious as fuck.

And once he trusted he was loyal, protective, affectionate, supportive, and extremely kinky.  All things Sirius heartily approved of. As had James, after Sirius mentioned applying for a residency at Wenlock’s.  In Oxford. Not terribly far from where Lupin would be reading Muggle Politics. 

Sirius did get him on the bed.  Eventually. Sirius, who adored Lupin (James: _obsessed_ ), was tenacious, extremely handsome, and very daring. 

You see, everyone liked Remus John Lupin.  Even Filch’s cat, who Lupin now very covertly scritched.

It was just that Sirius _really_ loved him.  


	2. Anyone who had a heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A check-in. Four years later.

The third time he came in asking after a Dionne Warwick album.

“You know the one,” he said, meters of him leaning over the counter, green-gold eyes crinkled up at the corner.  “ _There’s something in the way he moves.  Attracts me like no other lover_.”

Sirius just looked at him.  All clean-cut and rosy cheeked.  The poster boy for a soap commercial.  A _very_ good looking poster boy.  The girl who had trained him at the till, Eloise, was completely in love with Friday Afternoon (as she’d dubbed him).  She had spent an hour or so compulsively brushing her hair until it crackled. Floating bits of it had stuck to Sirius’ jeans and he’d been zapped twice as she squeezed past him.

Friday Afternoon always came in around 2pm on Fridays (thus the monniker).  Fridays were lectures, but they were over for the week and it was easy enough to pop over from Brasenose.  His hair was only fractionally longer than he’d kept it in College, but the four years or so since Hogwarts had been very, very kind to him.  Tall and lean with strong shoulders. He had a pair of blue Persol sunglasses that made him look like a movie star. He knew exactly the effect they had on people, the Slytherin git, and used it to his every advantage.  

It was all for Sirius’ sake, of course.  And he loved it.

“I can’t believe you would even listen to that shit,” Sirius said.  “You know it’s just a cover.”

Eloise turned to stare at Sirius, an _oh_ caught on her mouth.  She had liked Sirius, too, until she got to know him better.  

“Oh,” Lupin’s glasses were pushed up to the top of his head, his mouth flickering and then winning against amusement.  “A cover by whom?” Whom, because he was Lupin. “The Starland Vocal Band?” Sirius twitched. “I suppose that rubbing sticks and stones together does get a bit old.”

The look Lupin gave him was completely wicked.

He really should not have had the fizzy drink.  Certainly not the swallow he’d taken before Lupin opened his mouth.  It shot out his nose - rather spectacularly - as he choked and tried to breathe in equal measure.  Eloise startled into inaction and Lupin cast something, lazily, that let him breathe again. Sirius was completely dry.  Lupin had replaced the snot-fizzy with water, careful to not completely suspend disbelief. He had a delicate touch with these sorts of things.

“Are you alright?”  Eloise finally managed, finding a grimy rag or two to clean up.  “I thought you were going to die.” Sirius filed away the knowledge that if the store was ever robbed she would be no help whatsoever.

“No, he’s _fine_.”  Eloise turned to Lupin, catching _something_ to it, but finding herself looking into a face that could get away with murder.  All sweet green-gold eyes, Persol glasses, and even a tie.

The same Lupin who, about five minutes after leaving the shop, showed up in the tiny loo of the record shop, flicking _colloportus_ , _silencio_ , and banishing (Sirius’ trousers, now neatly folded) charms before getting a hand around his boyfriend’s cock.  “You are such an arse.”

“Not this time,” he said against Sirius’ ear.  Banishing his pants, too. “Put your leg up on the sink.”  Sirius did, opening as he did so. Not missing the following, “ _Wow._ ”  There was a sex shop in the basement of one of the brownstones on the block.  Where he had obtained something called a plug. Which he had been wearing for the past five hours or so.  Waiting for Lupin. He’d already come twice from the press of it against his prostate. But he was twenty-two and the sexiest man in the world was going to - if precedent stood - fuck him into the pedestal sink.  

He could certainly rise to the occasion.

Lupin pulled it out with a _pop_ and set it on the corner of the sink.  And then with the judicious casting of his warm lube spell, pushed right into Sirius’ arse and then _rocked_.  Lupin’s fingers were bruising, caught on the bony jut of his hips.  “Oh Merlin, just _fuck me_ ,” Lupin pulled out, moved his right hand to Sirius’ shoulders, and pushed him down.  And _then_ he slid in hard.  He adjusted Sirius’ hips as he pulled out and the next time he bottomed Sirius’ abdomen ignited with the flutter of Lupin’s retracted foreskin against his prostate.  

Sirius made quite a lot of noise.  A begging moan that devolved into what Lupin called caterwauling. _Don’t get me wrong_ , he’d said to a frowning Sirius, _It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.  Because_ I’m _getting you to do it._   _But I have to cast or you’d only get four seconds of it._  So Sirius bought him a charmed cockring.  That would only release when _he_ wanted it to.  Remus had it on now.  Sirius could feel it against his stretched opening.  Well, until he completely lost his mind.

Lupin was pulling his hair now.  Saying things like, _Oh God, take it._  And he was.  For another moment or so until he painted the underside of the sink with his spunk.  He let Lupin go a moment or so more and then released the ring. He followed rather spectacularly afterward.  

And then with the grace that was his partner in crime, he popped the plug right back in.  It slid in easily, slicked by Lupin’s release. He smacked Sirius’ arse. “Go home and I’ll see you in…” Lupin checked his watch (a nice gold one that looked like something a movie star should have) and then said, “Ten minutes.”

He wanted to tell Lupin that he was a right bastard to leave him in this state.  But all that came out was _nnnnnnnhhhhh_.  His boyfriend had a recovery period of about thirty seconds.  It was a skill particularly good for the times Prongs or Evans would just march into Sirius’ flat.  It being a studio.

With the rustle of his clothes sorting themselves out - and Sirius grabbing his jeans from somewhere over the sink - Lupin was off.

 

*

 

Sirius lived in a mixed housing scheme.  A fourth floor walk-up that he almost always entered the Muggle way.  It was essentially one room with a non-functioning (at least heat-wise) fireplace, the fiction of a kitchen, and an enormous bed.  It had come with his arithmancy residency at Wenlock’s with terms that it would only be revoked upon reaching journeyman status in the field.  A field that he was trying to break into, but depended on someone actually _dying_ before he got more than an entry status.  

The other Wenlock resident in the building had been there since 1928.  

While he waited for someone to die _naturally_ (Lupin had offered to have someone _taken care of_ , but he wasn’t sure he was _actually_ joking), Sirius did the weather for Capital Radio in the mornings.  He had an accuracy rating of 98% (he had to fib sometimes for veracity sake) and sometime the bloke who did traffic let him get above London on the Piper Seneca they were known for.   _That_ was brilliant.

For someone born with a silver portkey in his mouth, pretending to be a Muggle was a lot of fun.

The best part, which he reminded everyone often and loudly, was that while the radio _had_ been in trouble prior to his arrival, his dulcet tones (and weather accuracy) had made them the most listened to station in the morning.  He still only took home about £800 per month, but it was _his_.  Lupin, Potter, and Evans were proud of him.  And it was a real stick-it-to-you to the Blacks, the family he sadly won in the familial lottery.  All fine selling points.

He only worked at the record shop because he liked music, everyone else he knew had a job during the day, and liked when Lupin came in on Friday afternoons.  

When he unlocked his door, he stepped into the foyer… of Lupin’s flat.  Tidy brolly stand, the line of hooks for coats currently holding Lupin’s raincoat.  Looking behind, he saw the peeling linoleum of his. Turning back, it was definitely Lupin’s flat.

Lupin was sitting on the Slytherin green armchair he had - it was back to green, although Sirius turned it crimson every chance he had - watching him.  “Remus,” Sirius vacillated between first name and last for no particular reason. “What have you done to my flat?”

“I fixed it for you.”  No apologies, no coyness.  Just an innocent _sounding_ Lupin with a smug little smile that belied all that.  Lupin, who was clerking for a Muggle firm that understood his frail constitution when not clerking for a Wizarding firm (helmed by a friend of a friend of a Slytherin) or finishing lectures, lived in a purely Muggle flat.  It was hardly larger than Sirius’. He still wasn’t entirely sure how Lupin _got_ the Pernods.  He couldn’t rule out _confundus_ charms.  

“As in it no longer exists?  Or that you’ve duplicated your flat into mine?”

“Well, I was thinking.”  This was very dangerous. Lupin’s mind was devious and mysterious and very, very quixotic.  Which was why it was so brilliant that it was always on Sirius’ side. Most of the time, anyway. “You mentioned that you wanted a larger place.”  Sirius nodded. “Which I took to mean you wanted to move in with me. And by that I mean, you _are_ going to move in with me.”

Sirius had been working towards that.  In the sideways way he had of always being sidetracked by Lupin’s lewd suggestions before hitting the most salient point.  Lupin hadn’t said anything afterward, so he had tabled it for when he was drunk. Where he was more likely to wax poetic over Sirius (who apparently _hung the moon_ , never forgetting that one) and generally grab his arse in public.

He had been a bit more evasive when asked round for a pint. After a narco (in this case, Lily) had told him about the arse grabbing part.

“So the most cost efficient way to do this was to just link flats.  Although, I’ll have to move it to your closet door,” Lupin considered before smiling the smile only Sirius ever saw.  The one where he dropped his walls and revealed that he wanted to impress him. Or pleased with himself and wanted a head pat.  “I just wanted to make an impression this time.”

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever known.”

“By which you mean that you want to go down on me right now.”

“Which means,” Sirius began, closing the door behind him before climbing into Lupin’s lap, positioning his knees on the cushion and pressing _down_ on Remus, “That I am still wearing that plug.”

“Oh, good point.”

Lupin took him on the carpeting of _their_ flat.

 

*

 

Letters to the editor, following the Sun’s piece _Weatherman Taking London By Storm_ (May 5, 1982), published right next to the Page Three girl:

**Lois A., 82, Belvedere:** “Such a nice young man.  He hasn’t got a Mrs, has he?”

**Elspeth F., 73, Beacontree Heath:** “I would never miss a broadcast.  He has a lovely voice.”

**Margaret A., 80, Canonbury:** “I take my tea at the Crosley and listen to Mr Black.  Does he really go up in an aeroplane?”

**Ann G., 77, Tottenham:** “See this pin?” [ _photo attached: White pin with red-letting reading “Black Pack”_ ]  “This is something we’ve made up - the girls and I - for our society.”

**Beverley W, 84, Upminster:** “My.  I haven’t seen an arse like that these fifty years.”

 

_Sirius: Is this my demographic?!?_

_Remus: Ha ha ha ha_

 

**Beverley S., 51, Belsize:** “I don’t know what the world is coming to where a lad can go about with women’s hair.  Haven’t the Capitol a clause in their contract?”

 

_Sirius: Jealous._

_Remus: It’s nice for holding you in place.  But you do need a haircut._

 

**R.L,** **_A concerned citizen_ ** **,** “On Friday, that Black chap assured me that my brolly would not be needed for my daily perambulations from and to the Piccadilly line.  As my good Oxfords were ruined, you shall be hearing from my solicitor.”

 

_Sirius: You are such a prat! They made me sign a waiver!_

_Remus: I have a spell set that anytime you’re mentioned in print or other media I get instant notification._

_Sirius: There’s a spell for that?_

_Remus: Your head’s big enough.  I’m not sharing._

 

**Lois O’Hearn, 18, Page Three Model of May 3:** “Does anyone know how to contact Mr Black?  He’s gorgeous!”

 

_Remus: Who does this woman think she is?_

_Sirius: A concerned citizen?_

_Remus: ….._

 

*

 

James found out about Lupin’s lycanthropy rather unfortunately as they had scheduled their wedding for the morning after the full.  

And Lupin was in the party.  

“Are you absolutely certain you want to hold it on _that_ particular day?”  Sirius had asked. He had the lunar cycle memorized for most of the 80s.  

Unfortunately, they did.  Apparently Lily’s late parents had been married on the same date.  

“This is rather unfortunate,” Lupin had said.  “I suppose I’ll have to sally forth regardless.”  Sirius couldn’t convince him to feign an illness ( _I’ve never been sick in my life, Sirius_ ).  And he would certainly never out Lupin.  

It was a horrible moon, the longest of the year, and Lupin was packing up the wound in his side with spelled gauze and Healer’s tape.  The dressing had to be changed every half-hour and he was drinking blood replenishing potion like the other guests were drinking beer. Wobbly enough that he was very convincing.  They were in the Hall’s lavatory when James walked in on them. The aforementioned groom having blown open the locked door in a flurry of red and gold sparks that were quite unnecessary for the particular spell.  Lupin had his shirt off and Sirius’ hands glooped with something that smelled like murtlap and arse (the unsexy type). There was a lot of blood. Sirius was on a potion that immunized him, to some extent, from Lupin’s lycanthropy.  So long as he was very careful and didn’t get bit.

“Remus!”  James yelled, shocked.  “What in Merlin’s name happened to you?”  Remus had blood replenishing potion in his hip flask, pausing before tipping it into his mouth.

Sirius thought Lupin was going to _obliviate_ James.  He had that look on his face.  The mercenary, calculating one where he was weighing his chances of getting away with something.  Sirius wasn’t sure he would stop him. Although…

“Shut the fucking door,” he said instead, taking a long draught of the potion while Sirius nearly collapsed against him in relief.  Instead, he continued to pack him with healing balm. Lupin was tensed with pain, although you could only tell upon a great intimacy with his body.  

“Why did you even come in here?”  Sirius snapped, reaching for the gauze.

“I thought you were just having sex.”  James said lamely, his eyes still large.

“And you thought you were going to what?  Jump in with a big _a-ha_?”  He made the mistake of making eye-contact with Remus.  Who was trying not to laugh. It was exactly something James Potter would think was a good idea when he was pissed at his own wedding.  

“Well, you kept _stepping out_ ,” he put that in air-quotes.  “I came to the obvious conclusion that you were shagging.  But, I can see your _ribs_ , Remus!” he looked down at the gash Sirius was trying to cover, Lupin’s arms up to help him.  

“When...?” James threw his hands out, motioning rather spastically towards Remus’ chest.  Sirius had no idea what _exactly_ he was asking, but Remus pushed on with,

“Last night.” Remus said, jaw tight.  As soon as Sirius had sealed the tape with a sticking charm, he vanished the blood.  And did it again. Just in case. Lupin was always careful. Most particularly with anything to do with Sirius.  And he supposed now James.

“Were you attacked?”  James’ eyes narrowed and it was only a matter of minutes before he went Full Potter and marched the entire bridal party into the streets of Cokeworth to tackle the person who would be daft enough to mess with his mates.  He dropped his voice, “Was it because…?” He hated, and made it very clear that he did, that Sirius and Remus lived among Muggles. That Muggles didn’t understand or _like_ that they were together.  

“I’m a werewolf.”  Lupin said. He could joke about it.  With Sirius. But Sirius could hear the strain in his voice as he said it.  The worry in his eyes. That James would turn and walk out. That he would _hate_ him.  

“Oh.”  James said, sort of meaning _What the fuck?_ and _Wow_ and then he was smiling.  “I knew it wasn’t Filch’s cat.”  

“What you mean,” Lupin said, “Was that _Lily_ knew it wasn’t Filch’s cat.”

“Lily, me, it’s the same thing.  Also,” he pointed at Remus. “Stop that Slytherin shite, Remus.  We’re not in College anymore. And it’s probably illegal to read people’s minds.”

Because he was a Slytherin (Sirius: _patient and politic_ ) he didn’t mention that he didn’t need to use legilimency to read James.  He came with a user’s manual in-hand.

“How long has this been going on?”

Sirius said “Since 7th Year, you berk,” at the same time Remus said, “Since I was four.”

“Alright.  Give me one moment.”  James stepped into the nearest stall, urinated for what seemed like forever, doing his flies, and then walked out.  “Alright. Are we doing an Unbreakable?”

“I didn’t have to do that,” Sirius said.

“I’m not doing what you _did_ to make your pact.”  He rolled up the sleeve of his right shirtsleeve.  Remus tapped it with his wand. In dark letters it said: _James Potter is a wanker._

They laughed so hard that Sirius had to change Remus’ dressing before they left the lavatory.

 

*

 

It was Lily who burst in on them about an hour later.  A dervish of streaming red hair and at the point of exploding out of her dress.  It was a very near thing, averted by a very unladylike pull at the scalloped edge and a resettling of assets.

Remus was on the counter.  Sirius having just bandaged Remus’ ribs (which had started to knit a bit by this point), was on the knees of his rented tux.  With his mouth wrapped around Remus’ cock and probably (details were hazy) his right forefinger up his arse.

“Oh…”  Sirius paused, but did not pull off. He was a firm believer of being hanged for a dragon as a crup.  Lily levelled her finger at them not even trying not to look. “You.” Sirius. And then, “You!” Remus.  “I should have _known_ it was a euphemism for sex!”  

“Oh good, you _were_ aware that someone was using the lavatory.”  It was really rather calm and dry despite his sitting on the counter with his pants (and trousers) down about his ankles.  This was one of the best parts about Remus. His composure. It was really hard to ruffle him. Although if one were to, _I don’t know_ , sit in his Muggle boss’ chair tossing one off while Remus attempted to file, he would look over.  A time or two.

“Evans - er, Potter - is just a pervert,” Sirius said, popping off with a wet smack.  Remus made no move to hide his, somewhat deflated, anatomy.

“And here I felt sorry for you!”  Lily continued, her eyes magnetically drawn to Remus’ lap.  Not that Sirius could blame her. Not really. She jerked her head up.  “ _You were right_ , James says.  And god knows I’ll never hear that again.”  She tapped her foot.

There was the rustle of a guest at the door - which was still half-open, and Lily slammed it shut with a backhanded non-verbal.  Something soft and squishy hit the otherside with _uggghhh_.  “Well, are you even going to get up?”

“I’m quite comfortable where I am, thank you very much.”  And then, “Are you going to just stand there all night? We were in the middle of something.”

“You,” she pointed to Remus, “Me.  Tomorrow. Diagon. 10am.” Remus nodded.  They had put off their honeymoon for work. So she had a lot of time for interrogation.  And hopefully for the book swap they’d found an advert for. Sirius was getting low on salacious reading materials.  Even the Boons & Mills monthly subscription was not cutting it.

Lily walked over, extending her right arm and sort of bridal-skirting Sirius out of sight.  “Alright, let's do this?”

“What exactly are _we_ doing?”

“The Unbreakable you did with James.”

Sirius pushed the satin and lace aside and made eye-contact with Remus.  Who twitched almost imperceptibly before sighing,“Alright.” Remus tapped her arm and they looked down at: _Lily Potter is a pervert_.

“I’m going to kill all of you.”

 

*

 

Two days later, Sirius was bursting with news.  “So Lily told me that there’s talk at Acathone,” one of the Wizarding world’s largest potions manufacturers (and Lily’s employer), “That this guy Belby - Damocles, I think? - is working on something promising.  Something they’re calling Wolfsbane around the lab.” He wiggled his eyebrows, clearly attempting to impart the seriousness of his words. “Get it?”

Remus was reading a paper - a _brief_ he’d called it, though it was as thick as a book - and didn’t look up.  But he did still. So he was listening.

“Anyway.  They think it might be a possible cure for lycanthropy.”  Sirius was squirming with excitement. Remus sat back, looking into the fire (his addition to the flat had a _real_ fireplace).  After Sirius put on a new album - something by the Police, which Remus liked - and charmed the dishes clean and made tea, Remus finally said, “It would probably make the papers.  Something like that.”

This was the one thing, that Sirius knew anyway, that Remus John Lupin was afraid of.  He was afraid of what it would mean to his parents, to his friends, and Hogwarts. And what it would mean for Sirius.  Who generally didn’t give a fuck, but convincing Remus of that was much harder.

But if anyone was born to convince Remus to do something, it was Sirius Black.  He took full credit for finally getting Potter and Evans together. “Pah. You’d hardly merit page three.”  Lupin snorted. Which was promising.

“I think Belby was a Slytherin.”

“There you go.  A little I’ll scratch your scales if you scratch mine.”

Much, much later, Remus turned to him in bed, in a well-worn v-neck tee and boxers.  “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” By which Sirius took to mean _he_ didn’t want to get his hopes up.  

“Well, then how about a blowjob?”  99% of the world’s problems (in Sirius’ world) could be solved with a blowjob.

Remus was quiet for a bit - almost long enough for Sirius to check his pulse, because _really_ , no one would pass up the offer - and then, “Will you fuck me?”  

“Of-of course.”  Remus was game for just about anything ( _really_ anything), but after the Great Discovery of Sirius’ Prostate, Remus only had to look at him and he was on his hands and knees.  Which amused Remus greatly. But when he asked to bottom it was for reassurance. A sense of closeness and ownership. Which made Sirius feel proprietary (Sirius: _This is my arse_ ).  And found insanely hot.

Sirius took his time with him.  Drew the breath from his body and replaced it with his own.  He traced the scars that Remus always hid beneath his button downs and ties and blazers.  He nosed the hair under his arm, licking his way down his torso, and buried his face in the fair thatch at Remus’ groin.  He used his fingers and mouth and skin to bring him along. His magic to ease the very, very slow press of his cock inside him until he shifted for the commanding _harder_ , _faster_.  Then Sirius was pressing down with Remus pushing up, grip was tight on Remus’ cock, bringing him off before his own orgasm.  

“Don’t,” Remus said, gathering Sirius up before he could cast a cleaning spell on the mess.  They were sticky and warm, Sirius fitting in the furrow of Lupin’s hips and likely to be glued in place overnight.  His head dropping into Lupin’s neck.

“Just remember,” he warned, “I am not sleeping on the wet spot.”

 

*

 

“How do you feel?”  Sirius, not particularly fussed about being completely naked at St Mungo’s, asked.

Green-gold eyes looked up at him, a sleepy smile on Lupin’s lips.  The pupils were still slightly blown as the aconite took a while to flush from his system, it being quite poisonous.  Bones cracked as he unwound himself from where he had been curled up floor. “Like I’ve been hit by a lorry.” He stretched out his arms and legs for inspection.  “Not a scratch.”

Sirius turned at the sound of the door opening.  “That’s my sign. I won’t be sorry to see the last of this place.  Next month, you can share my dog bed.” With a grin, Sirius was back to an oversize and unnaturally well-behaved dog.

“ _Wanker_.”  But there was no heat to it.

 

*

 

“So, if not Dionne Warwick,” the blonde said, this time in jeans and unquestionably Sirius’ t-shirt.  He had grabbed Sirius’ after their usual Friday loo interlude. Sirius was now in Lupin’s button-down, green-tie, and a blazer.  He felt very Elvis Costello. Which was maybe alright. “Why don’t you recommend something. Since you _obviously_ know everything.”  His Persols were up and he had rolled his green-gold eyes.

Eloise was looking back between the two of them.  Obviously trying to work out how they had switched shirts when Lupin had left the shop and Sirius had gone to the lav by himself.  Sirius was enjoying himself immensely. Lupin, as per usual, was giving nothing away.

“Well that depends on what you’re looking for.”

“Well, I _was_ looking for Dionne Warwick.  I just love that Bacharach sound.”  Which, disgustingly, he did. But he had one saving grace.  His collection of Mod revival records. The Jams, The Inmates, Nine Below Zero.  And he did like Elvis Costello. “I get the idea that you like something a bit… _harder_ .”  They had broken the sink this time, much apologies from Remus (who was _much_ stronger than he looked), and some quick mending charms.

Sirius gave him a dark look.  “You just can’t help being a pussy, eh?”  

“Only sometimes,” Lupin added.  With a wink. Lupin never used occlumency with Sirius, fairly open to his awful use of legilimency (Sirius: _creative_ ).  And thus subject to the graphic images he projected.  They had worked on control, a bit, after Lily got a mindful once (before the eyeful).  And then, “Hey.” Sirius stopped, turning towards his most difficult customer. “ _Anyone who ever loved could look at me.  And know that I love you_.”

“Seriously?”

“ _Anyone who ever dreamed could look at me.  And know I dream of you. Knowing I love you_.”

“Stop.”

“ _Anyone had a heart would take me in his arms and love me, too_.”

“You know it doesn’t end well, right?  The song.” Sirius, who had gone very pink, was trying to not let his knees give out.  Or jump Remus in the store. Where Eloise and the four other customers would see them.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about Dionne Warwick.”  Lupin gave him a very suspicious look. “I have a feeling there are depths to you, Scowling Sales Clerk.”

“You _do_ know that it’s a cover.  And don’t,” Sirius turned.  “It has nothing to do with sky rockets in flight.”

“I’ve never heard any complaints about my sky rockets.”


End file.
